


Thunder & Lightning

by Noname109



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Declarations Of Love, Enthusiastic Consent, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Possessive Derek, Post-Coital Cuddling, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Werewolf Derek, Wolfed Out Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 12:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16640417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noname109/pseuds/Noname109
Summary: When Stiles comes it smells like thunder. It feels like lightning in his veins that makes his blood pump faster and thicker under his sweat slick skin. And then the scent turns sweet like taffy being turned over and over in a candy shop.And yeah, Derek is a little addicted to getting a fix.





	Thunder & Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. :)

When Stiles comes it smells like thunder. It feels like lightning in his veins that makes his blood pump faster and thicker under his sweat slick skin. And then the scent turns sweet like taffy being turned over and over in a candy shop. 

And yeah, Derek is a little addicted to getting a fix. 

When Stiles comes it makes him want to run to the top of a mountain peak and _howl_. It makes his wolf bristle at the edges of his being, makes his fangs drop and makes his claws poke out just enough to tease. 

_God_ , when Stiles comes it’s a goddamn miracle. It turns Derek’s world on its axis. And the process leading up to the tipping point is pretty nice, too. He’s not about to complain about that part either. 

But it’s the end result he’s so sold on. 

“God, Der —“ Stiles stumbles over his words, lets them slur between his fucked out lips. His mouth is red from kissing, all swollen and wet and _perfect_. 

And Derek is half torn between going back and ravishing his mouth again, and staying where he is. Between Stiles’s legs is a pretty good view. The pale expanse of skin of his chest is red and glistening with sweat and Derek’s spit from where he was licking around his nipples and down his naval to get where he is now. 

He hums around the dick in his mouth, swirls his tongue a little around the head and licks into the slit. It makes Stiles buck his hips, a low groan choked off and turned into a breathless sigh. 

Stiles’s fingers are wound so tight in Derek’s hair that he’s surprised he has any left now. Stiles stands slumped against the wall of their shared living room, hunched over Derek, unable to control the pleasure of his body that Derek is giving him with his tongue and his fingers. 

Stiles lets it take over him, lets his eyes roll back in his head, jaw falling slack. He pants out little breaths of Derek’s name intermittently with curse words and unintelligible enthusiastic consent. 

Derek presses his fingertips further into the dip in Stiles’s hips, holds him there while he bobs his head, hollowing out his cheeks. 

The air crackles around them, coming to life and Derek works harder. Stiles curls over him when he comes, forcing Derek’s mouth so far down he chokes, but he doesn’t fight it. 

Instead he lets the come drip out the sides of his mouth, keeps sucking until Stiles is shoving his head away with little gasps from overstimulation. Derek sits back and licks his lips clean, watching Stiles breathing, chests both heaving. 

Stiles braces himself with his hands on his knees, legs and elbows shaking. 

Derek lets him have a moment to catch up to himself, lets his lungs burn with the effort of coming back down from his high. He breathes in the deep, sharp scent of Stiles. 

The smell of the tang of his come still hangs heavy and heady in the air, but the little breaths falling from Stiles’s mouth smell like cotton candy; airy and sweet. 

Derek surges up, locks their mouths together in a twist of tongue and clash of teeth. He fists his hand in Stiles’s short hair and presses his body up close, crowding him against the wall. 

Derek lets the twist of their mingling smells wash over him and lets his instincts take over. He knows his eyes flash red before he feels it because when he pulls away to get a look at Stiles, his _mate_ , his eyebrows are up and his nostrils are flaring around something he can’t smell with just his human senses. 

They stand like that for what feels like forever, drinking each other in, eyes locked. Derek lets his hand rest reverently against the side of Stiles’s face, cupping his cheek. His thumb brushes against the stubble there. He didn’t shave this morning, Derek can’t smell the aftershave on him like usual. 

He breaks their eye contact so he can press his nose to the juncture of Stiles’s shoulder and his neck. He fills his lungs with the smell of home. 

Stiles just holds him there, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck that stands up at the attention. He slots his thigh between Stiles’s legs and forms himself in a tight line against Stiles. 

Derek scents him for several more long, unspoken minutes. Stiles is finally the one brave enough to break the silence. 

“Bed?” He tries quietly and Derek just grumbles an affirmative response. His wolf is still very much in control, and he doesn’t even try to fight it. Just throws Stiles over his shoulder and bounds to their bedroom, to the safety of his den. 

The bed squishes under the combined weight of them both when they slam into it. He sees the reflection of the red of his eyes in the window. He growls low in his chest, and it rumbles their bodies. 

The calm before the storm. 

“Yeah, let it out, Der. I don’t mind,” Stiles assures him, brushing the extra hair out of his eyes. “C’mon, Alpha. Do your worst.” 

Derek’s wolf preens under the praise, and he bares his teeth. His response is an indistinguishable bunch of words that make Stiles smile fondly. 

“Love you, Sourwolf.” 

“Gonna break you.” 

Stiles’s laugh is cut off by Derek’s mouth over his, and he swallows the noise. He slots himself into the dips and curves of his body and it’s like they were fucking made for each other the way Derek’s fingers mold against his hips, the way their thighs fit between each other’s, the way that their mouths slot together with a slick slide of tongue so perfect it makes Derek’s toes curl. 

Derek can hear the moment their bodies sync completely, heartbeats going even and breathing going in and out in tandem. 

And then the crackling starts in the room. It starts slow, building up until the hairs on Derek’s arms that are bracketing Stiles’s body are standing straight up. His spine lights up like a live wire, pulling his body taut, and then the lightning strikes. 

Stiles comes all over the skin of his belly, white streaking up to hit his chest. His head lolls back against the pillows, eyes shut tight and fingers pushing in tight against Derek’s skin. 

“Derek,” he pants. Derek reaches between them to jerk him off through it, savoring every twist and turn of his hand, mouthing at the mess he’s made. “Derek.” 

He lets his elongated teeth scrape over Stiles’s nipples, which makes them both suck in a gasp. 

“Derek.” And he says it like a prayer. Like Derek is beautiful and perfect, and all the things he’s not. “You are,” Stiles murmurs, and then Derek is on his back, pressed into the mattress by Stiles’s lithe form. He’s uncoordinated, still come-drunk, but Derek lets him fumble around until he gets the hang of it. 

And then Stiles’s mouth is on him, tonguing at the flushed, blood heavy skin of his cock. It makes him drip, makes him bite out a long, heavy moan. 

“That’s it,” Stiles encourages. “Fuck my mouth, Der.” 

Derek’s hips buck up, and then it’s like a switch is flipped and he’s just taking everything Stiles will give him. He lets his hips rock up in a rhythm they both slide into easily enough. 

When Derek comes it feels like lava pooling low in his gut. He tries to warn Stiles that he’s close by slurring it around his teeth, but Stiles just hums and it sends a jolt through him and he’s a goner. 

When Derek comes he roars and lets his wolf out. He pulls his hands away from Stiles’s face so his nails can shred their sheets. He closes his eyes so the red doesn’t blur his vision. He lets his lips fall apart so he tear his own mouth apart as his fangs drop fully. 

Minutes must go by, but he’s not present for them. Distantly he feels himself being tidied up and shuffled under the covers, but it’s not until his face is pressed into the nape of Stiles’s neck that he comes to, his scent sickly sweet against the flat of his tongue. 

He wraps himself further around Stiles, his arms encircling him and his legs trapping him against the heat of his body. 

“You good?” Stiles asks quietly, almost shy. Derek hums against his skin. “You gonna use your words, caveman?” 

“No.” 

Stiles snorts and wiggles his butt in closer to Derek’s groin. He growls. 

“Down boy, just getting comfy.” 

“You’re never just ‘getting comfy’.” 

“Mm, true.” 

At this, Stiles wiggles a little more and Derek just sighs. 

“Keep doing that and —“ 

“You’ll what?” Stiles challenges, and turns to face Derek, all snide and confident. When Derek flashes his teeth, so does Stiles. 

“I love you,” Derek breathes, admiration heavy in his words. 

“Show me,” he challenges again, and Derek does.

###### 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
